


triptych

by havisham



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Afterlife, Gen, Hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Celebrimbor is haunted by his family.





	triptych

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).



When Celebrimbor saw his father standing before him, he thought it was likely a hallucination. He’d been working too long with Annatar and it seemed that his mind would wander if he wasn’t careful. But his father didn’t act like hallucination -- he looked beyond Celebrimbor and went over to the desk where his plans were, and began to rifle through the papers. 

“Don’t do that,” Celebrimbor said sharply. His father looked up, an annoyed look on his face. Celebrimbor blinked. He had almost forgotten how much they looked alike, he and his father. They were mirror-images of each other, and what was more, reflections of Fëanor. 

“You should be wary of that Maia,” Curufin said, his attention slipping back to Celebrimbor’s plans. “He has a hungry look about him.” 

“You would know,” Celebrimbor said, biting off a more bitter remark.

“I say because I know, foolish boy.” 

*

When all his plans went sideways and Annatar proved false, Celebrimbor’s thoughts kept returning to the Three. They had never been touched by Annatar, never polluted by his presence at their making as the other rings had been. The Three would be his best work, as part of his soul as the Silmarils had been his grandfather’s. 

“And you would give them away?” Celebrimbor barely flinched at the sudden appearance of said grandfather by his side. Whether a ghost or a hallucination, hardly mattered. Fëanor’s presence filled up the little room that Celebrimbor had been hiding in. 

“I give them away so -- Sauron may not touch them. They will not suffer the fate of your jewels.” 

Fëanor gave him a dark look. “They were not contaminated by his touch.” 

“Mine will never be touched.” 

“You think Artanis would be worthy of what you give her?” 

Celebrimbor smiled, sensing that the ancient slight still smarted. “Yes. As will the others. They will survive me.” 

“So you say.” 

But Fëanor smiled at him and Celebrimbor knew that his grandfather was proud of him. 

*

There was so much pain that Celebrimbor thought the blood had stained his vision red. But when he kept staring, he was still there. His uncle Maedhros had never spoken of his captivity with him. But now it seemed that Maedhros grasped him and pulled him steady. 

“Be strong,” Maedhros said. “It will not last long for you.” 

How could it not?

*

When Celebrimbor woke in the Hall of Mandos, he was met with three familiar faces, and for the first time in a very long time, he was comforted. 


End file.
